


Your Life as a Teenage Freak

by Ironicallyiron



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - High School, Gen, Monsters, Slow Burn, monsterstuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 00:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14153040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ironicallyiron/pseuds/Ironicallyiron
Summary: "For millennia, monsters were forced to live in the shadows, avoiding humans, living their lives in fear. Those who were unfortunate enough to encounter a human were forced to engage in strife- their only options to die or commit the traumatizing act of taking another's life."However, merely twenty years ago today, a brave religious leader among the monsters- deemed 'The Sufferer' for the pain he had endured due to his mutant nature- had decided he'd had enough of living in exile. He did what others like him dare not do. He rose up from hiding and made contact with the humans, reaching out in hopes he, as well as his monster comrades, would be accepted into their society."At first, the humans were repulsed by such a creature. They had known monsters existed- though for many, it was considered but a myth- but none thought one would be brave enough to make con-"You sigh, shutting off the radio.You're starting to get really sick and fucking tired of listening to this stupid story about your stupid dad.





	Your Life as a Teenage Freak

**Author's Note:**

> So, a couple of you might recognize this a bit. I posted this first chapter a while back (two years ago l m a o), and then decided to rewrite and repost it. I'll probably continue it if you guys like it!

"For millennia, monsters were forced to live in the shadows, avoiding humans, living their lives in fear. Those who were unfortunate enough to encounter a human were forced to engage in strife- their only options to die or commit the traumatizing act of taking another's life.

"However, merely twenty years ago today, a brave religious leader among the monsters- deemed 'The Sufferer' for the pain he had endured due to his mutant nature- had decided he'd had enough of living in exile. He did what others like him dare not do. He rose up from hiding and made contact with the humans, reaching out in hopes he, as well as his monster comrades, would be accepted into their society.

"At first, the humans were repulsed by such a creature. They had known monsters existed- though for many, it was considered but a myth- but none thought one would be brave enough to make con-"

You sigh, shutting off the radio.

You're starting to get really sick and fucking tired of listening to this stupid story about your stupid dad.

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you're a monster.

You try to not make a big deal out of it or anything, but it's kinda hard when your dad is "The Saint Who Brought Together The Races Of Man And Monster" or whatever.

You might be okay with the occasional offhand bullshit comment about your dad every once in a while if it weren't for the fact that Oh Yeah, everyone and their dog knows who he is and has an opinion about him that they just  _need_ to spout at you as if you gave a crispy shit about him or what he did for the monster race. In your opinion, the monsters should've overtook humanity. You're stronger and have more common sense than these soft fucks, anyway. 

You're a gorgon, which is an  _extra rare_  kind of monster, you guess. It sucks, because it just makes you more distinctive than you already were, being the Sufferer's son and all. Having a head full of snakes has its benefits, though; people give you some space in public, and you think they make you look more intimidating. Trying to get comfortable in bed is a pain in the ass, though. 

You inherited your father's mutation, making you unable to turn anyone to stone with your glare. That makes being a gorgon suck even  _more,_ because it means your primary defense mechanism is gone. You admit it might make living life a little harder, but the satisfaction of getting to turn your enemies to helpless statues would make up for it. But. You can't. 

You pretty much hate your life. 

Today, you hate your nearly-intolerable life a little more than usual, though. 

The reason you hate your life a little more than usual today is that it's the first fucking day of  _YOUR FUCKING STUPID JUNIOR YEAR AT YOUR GODDAMN RIDICULOUS FUCKING WASTE OF A SCHOOL._

You hate school for a wide multitude of reasons, but mostly because of all the shitty humans. You mean, you also hate all the shitty monsters, but at least the shitty monsters don't harass you, for the most part.

You've begged your dad countless times to just let you be privately tutored or something, but each time he refuses, saying some bullshit like, "Now, son, what kind of example would that set for your colleagues? It would just make them feel as though they shouldn't try to make human friends and it would make humans feel like it's okay to reject us. You  _have_  to interact with the humans, for the good of the monster community." 

You think it's complete hippy bullshit, and also you think he's just making up excuses to not hire a tutor. Cheap asshole. 

The idea of having to put yourself through another two years of public school is enough to make you want to launch yourself out the window at a previously unobtainable speed for organic creatures. 

You sit on the edge of your bed, your head propped up on your hand. You can feel a headache coming on.

"Good morning, Karkat. Are you ready for your first day of our education, because I certainly am! I just wanted to remind you of the rules I have set in place for the two of us at school to make our human counterparts more comfortable around us."

Ah, there it is. The Headache.

"Rule one, please warn all surrounding parties before you say anything potentially offensive or upsetting. Rule two, please remember that not all humans are okay with slurs, including, but not limited to: Two eyes, no-fangs, no-claws, two legs, no-powers, flesh-haver, and normie. Rule three, please keep your sunglasses on. I am aware of our mutation, which makes it impossible for us to stone humans, but not everyone is. They may find you threatening. Rule three, subsection A, please keep your snakes calm and happy. They can also be threatening to humans. Rule three, subsection A, sub-sub section I, your snakes can get tangled sometimes and it can be unsightly. If possible, it would be much appreciated that you regularly check your appearance in the nearest mirror. Remember to not block anyone else's view of the mirror-" 

You groan as audibly as possible before flipping back over into your bed and burying your face into the fluffiest blanket you own.

He continues blathering on outside your door.

You can't do this. 

You can't keep your shit from flipping. You can feel the spatula of your mind sliding under the firm shit patty you've laid on the skillet. It's about to flip. It's inevitable. Oh my God.

You hear a knock on your door, followed by an inquiry of "Karkat? Are you awake?"

The knob of your door jiggles.

_You can't_ _do this._

"Good morning, Karkat. It seems you weren't awake when I began reminding you of the rules, so I'm here to repe-" "Shut the hell up, Kankri, or I swear to every god in every iteration of every possible religion that I'll rip every single snake right off your cavernous head."  

Kankri, ever the cool one, keeps his face pleasant. However, his eyes betray him, gleaming an angry red. "I see you are rather upset this morning. I am sympathetic to this, as school can be a stressful time in an adolescent's life- however, the rules are necessary to go over. I will wait for you to eat breakfast, then I will reinstate rules one through fifty-six." The asshole just fucking waits there. You really want to punch him in his smart-ass face. 

"Now Karkat, you don't want to arrive late, do you? That would make a negative impression among your peers."

Instead of acting on your impulse, which is to staple your brother's upper lip to his anus, you choose to stave off your white-hot fury and ignore him completely, burrowing further into your blanket. You can feel your teeth involuntarily grind.

What feels like seven hours (but must have been more like three minutes) later, Kankri sighs and exits your room. He left your door open. Your shit is mere milliseconds away from doing a graceful backflip into the air.

You bury your face into your pillow and shout every profanity you know, which takes at least another five minutes. If you weren't cold-blooded you're entirely sure you'd be able to fry an egg on your face.

When you emerge from the soft confines of your pillow (now wet with your spit from the overzealous cursing), you take a moment to catch your breath.

You resign yourself to your fate and stand up. 

After throwing on the clothes from your floor that stink the least, you cast another gaze at your bed. It beckons you like a flame beckons a moth. You hear Kankri approaching your room again.

You're not fucking dealing with him.

As fast as you can, you grab the coal-black backpack leaning against the side of your desk and dash through the doorway of your room. You meet Kankri in the hallway and  _Fuck no_ and you push yourself past him, hitting your shoulder against his, and make a B-line to the front door of your apartment. 

You slam it behind you as you dash outside and down the stairs, into the lobby.  _Get fucked, windbag,_ you think triumphantly to yourself.  _Shove your rules so far up your ass they end up behind your eyes._

As soon as you're out the door of the lobby, you see that your friend Gamzee has been waiting for you on the curb. 

Gamzee is... well, he's a fucking weirdo. 

His race has been traced back to having the Jersey Devil as a father, and several breeds of Satyr as mothers. They wield powerful dark magic, as their grandfather was  _literally Satan_ , but they're to mirthful to actually use it. That's the downfall of the Satyr-Devils. The Jersey Devil was unbelievably powerful, but chose to breed with Satyrs, who are renowned for being dumbass party animals, to keep the goat bloodline strong. Gamzee, as well as every other Satyr-Devil you've ever met, has the potential to single-handedly enslave the entire human race, but they haven't because they're a bunch of  _lazy, stoner hippies_.

The kind of power Gamzee actually has is... well, you try to not think about it. 

"Hey, asshole," you call to him. He jumps a bit, startled by your voice. Soon, the surprise fades from his face, replaced by a stupid wide grin. 

"Hey, motherfucker," he says, gravelly voice hitting your ears like nails on a chalkboard. Honestly, you fucking hate Gamzee's voice. He talks too slow, and his voice is like baritone radio static.

"I've been waitin' to get my chill on with you all morning." 

"Gamzee, how long have you been waiting here?" You ask. You're  _almost_  slightly concerned for him maybe. Gamzee's always too high to take care of himself. He regularly makes decisions that make your blood pressure fly off the charts.

He scratches his head, dreadlocks bouncing. "I don't know, man, time ain't important. Is it real, even? Who the fuck even knows what time is?" You're pretty sure Gamzee's high again today. Gamzee's high every day, so it shouldn't surprise you, but damn it if you don't find his weed-induced ramblings to be annoying as stepping in water when you're wearing socks. 

"Time is-" you find yourself unable to describe the concept of time. You don't even know why you feel the need to explain it to your obviously intoxicated friend, but the fact that you can't find the words to explain it still pisses you off. "Nevermind. It's too early for this shitheadery. Get your braindead stoner ass up so we can leave before Kankri comes out." 

Gamzee acknowledges your command and slowly- damn it, he does EVERYTHING slowly- brings himself to his hooves. 

He gives you a thumbs up. You flip him off. Fucking Gamzee. 

The two of you walk in silence for what could be considered the best two minutes of your day. You should've known better than to expect this to last long, though, as the silence is soon interrupted by Gamzee's bullshit voice. 

"So," he drawls, "you ready to get caught up with all our humans?" 

You roll your eyes. "I'm not friends with any of those tools."

Gamzee looks at you. "I can't all up and grasp why you don't like those motherfuckers. They ain't hurtin' nobody. It ain't like they try to get a beatdown on a motherfucker-" You cut him off with a glare.

"It doesn't fucking matter if they aren't hurting me. What  _matters_ ," you snap, "is that they stare at us like we're a fucking spectacle. They treat us like fucking science exhibits." Your snakes are starting to get all riled up, god damn it.

"Aw, shoot, I think it's mighty flatterin' bein' looked at all the time. They just think we're neat lookin' is all. They're jealous 'cause they ain't got no claws and scales and fangs like you do." He returns his gaze to the sidewalk in front of you. "It's makin' a motherfucker sad to think about all those folks who can't get their fly on."

You're starting to get really pissed off now. "That's not the point!" You strain to keep yourself from yelling in public, "They treat us like we don't deserve to be respected! They act like it hasn't been  _twenty fucking years_  since we started integrating into their shitty society! They don't have an excuse, it doesn't matter that we look different, it doesn't matter if they're jealous of us! They need to get the fuck over it and start treating us like they treat each other, which- fuck, they're too inept to even do  _that_ properly." Your breath is heavy. You've worked yourself up. You can feel your snakes hissing and writhing on your head- you've gone and really riled them up. You internally try to calm yourself down. Don't make a scene, Karkat. 

Gamzee's silent for a minute. 

"I don't want to talk about it anymore." You tell him.

He, thankfully, doesn't say anything else. He knows how rough school is on you. Even though he can't comprehend why you hate humans, he tries his best to listen. He knows not being able to blend in with a crowd of humans is rough for you. He understands that it's hard, being a monster in a human world. It's hard, and Gamzee understands. 

He knows that being around humans for seven hours a day stresses you out, and as difficult as it is for him to keep quiet for a fucking minute, he's willing to try. That's why he's your best friend. 

Your best braindead stoner hippy piece of shit best friend. 

As you walk together in silence, you try to ignore the passers-by. There are people staring at you, because they expect you to turn around and bite them at any second and you know it's understandable that they're staring at you because you're  _covered in snakes_ , but you just wish they would mind their own business. You keep your gaze towards the ground. You're uncomfortable as fuck, but honestly, you're always uncomfortable. You just need to grow up and take it like a viper. 

Gamzee seemingly senses your tension, and reaches an oversized, calloused hand over to grab your own dark, cold one. He gives you a reaffirming squeeze. You squeeze his hand back as a type of silent thank you before quickly letting go. That was dumb. 

Together, you walk to school. 

He occasionally opens his mouth to say some more dumb shit or remark upon something otherwise unremarkable. Each time, you get a little closer to slapping him.

No matter how many times he says something ridiculous, though, it doesn't distract you from the tangled ball of anxiety deep within your stomach. 

You have a feeling it's going to be a long year. 

**Author's Note:**

> So what do you think? Questions, comments, concerns? Comment below! Thank you for reading!


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